You said, God, that all of this was yours;
Through Your spoken word, the water came;
At your request, land arose. With barely a whisper,
You called up trees. All this, where I sit and ponder,
Is proof that Your words create life and wonder.
As I look about, everywhere, I see Your hand.

Man might be Your grandest work, but there’s
So much more in the seas, in the air, in the dirt.
Who am I to question whether the caterpillar
Crawling on my shoe, or the mosquito,
Or the cockroach, are part of your plan?
Bugs bite, I itch, and I question
The need for such bother.

My father told me all is of the food chain;
This is true of every creature, every organism.
I sit under this canopy of countless leaves
And I realize that You, God, designed this world
From the very smallest of cells
To this grove of trees.

Steven Barto ©2016

4 thoughts on “Grove of Trees

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